the Dead or Dying
by Ink Scribble
Summary: Erin Harker: Lazy, sleep deprived, and unreasonable. Also, she does not speak Japanese. So when she ends up in Death Note? Yeah, it's her worst nightmare because, suddenly she has to do a lot of the one thing she dislikes most. Think.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

Ash and rubble, no colour to the world.

A barren, forsaken land of desolation that almost resembled a battlefield. The sky was a dismal grey that sank down upon craggy cliffs, and stretches of equally bland, thick, choking dust. Bleached a ghostly, and dull white, skeletons of things long dead and forgotten erupted forth from the congestion of filth. Some were large structures of bone that appeared to be part of the uninspiring scenery, while others were merely clusters of brittle remains that collected into grim piles. There were chains too, dark and sinister strings of metal which slithered from unknown depths, and pulled taught for miles in complicated webs. It was as if they were trying to keep the dreadful place from falling a part. Maybe they were really ripping against its seams.

The atmosphere was unnaturally hushed, with little to no sound. What vague whispers there were became muffled by some unseen force. No wind stirred the stagnant, fusty air, so nothing carried very far, the dull murmurs spinning lazily behind unseen bounds as they slowly dissipated into nothing. That abandoned realm was like a forgotten and cursed graveyard which no living thing dared approach.

The aftermath of an apocalypse could not have created such a bleak wasteland, and that was just how the king liked it.

The king, respectfully called Death, and less respectfully referred to as the 'old man', was the oldest of all Grim Reapers, or Death Gods. He had existed for far longer than even he cared to remember. No one, not even he himself, knew when he had come into being. All that he knew was that he had spent seemingly an eternity in the dreary conditions of the Death God Realm, ruling over all other Death Gods.

He would have hardly minded, content with his surroundings, if not for the fact that all the other fools were useless imbeciles. All they ever did was laze about, bemoaning their boredom, without any thought to actually doing the work they were supposed to have been at least attempting. Each and every one of them were unmotivated, whiny brats with enough arrogance to assure them that their indolence was not _actually_ an issue.

It was an issue though because someone had to make sure the business of dying, which was very serious indeed, kept running. There were rules, laws that could not be ignored lest the entire universe implode. Apparently that meant the king, who was under the impression that he really should have had servants to do the heavy lifting, was in charge of everything. If he heard any more petulant Death Gods complaining about how there was nothing to do, he would show them the piles and piles of paperwork waiting for him, and see if they had anything to say then. As it was he was hardly ever made appearances, trapped in complete seclusion as he did paperwork on every death that happened in any world, anywhere.

Then, how was he repaid? The infantile Ryuk had decided it would be jolly good fun the steal the King's Death Note. Normally the king would simply use it as an excuse to take his frustrations out on someone, but by the time he got around to tracking down the selfish plebeian, he discovered that the idiot had dropped a Death Note into the Human Realm, and gone gallivanting after it for kicks, without so much as a _by-your-leave_.

And merciful heavens did that come with an unholy ton of overtime. The king had to file a report that his Death Note had officially gone missing, and another one for the notebook that had, of course, fallen into the hands of a bloodthirsty lunatic with a God-complex. The king even had to sign off on every single mortal the conceited tic wrote down, and then apply for the change in their time. From there his workload was filled with wiping all the extra souls of their past life, organizing transport for reincarnation, and meeting with Fate for the destined rebirth and eventual death. It was not as bad as the Dark Ages, the Plague, or the Holocaust, but it was enough to make any sensible Death God snap.

Then, just when the king thought it could not get any worse, the murderous wretch had gone and popped off. That should have been a good thing, a cause for celebration even, except there was a clause stating that whatever human used a Death Note would become a Death God upon their termination. The king would now have to deal with the supposed "Kira" in person. Or would have, had the newbie not crossed the line, the line being the one between the Death God Realm and the human one, having dropped his notebook just like Ryuk had.

The king was fed up. He was tired of taking all the backlash that resulted from the unbelievable shenanigans his _subordinates_ got into. He was sick of the careless disregard for rules, and consequences, and _common courtesy_. Plus, he was absolutely done with paperwork, and unpaid overtime. He just wanted to take his vacation days and get some peace.

Thus, he developed a plot to derail Kira's plan before it ever got under way. There was a bit of bending space-time involved, but he was Death. If he could not twist physics a little, he hardly deserved the title. The only thing he could not work in his favour was the fact that Death Gods dealt only with the dead or dying, and the eventual expiration of their allotted stint in the world of the living. If he was going to tinker, it meant using someone who was on the chopping block.

Thus he sent for a Death God who was slightly more useful than the rest, though that was not saying much. Ilmort was a particularly creepy Death God who was always a little off. Truthfully, the king would have liked to make use of someone more trustworthy, less conniving, but he could not afford to send some half-wit on a mission to another reality. Not with his potential break from work on the line, anyway. He had to make due, and hope that the shrewd little imp did not brew up some troublesome idea.

From there all he could do was wait and hope that his servant found someone with the sufficient ability to mess up the irksome plot line. Fortunately he had nothing but time.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings! I am in the process of editing and revamping, and while doing so this wee bit popped into my head. Hope you enjoy a look into REASONS WHY ERIN SUFFERS. MUHAHAHAHA! Ahem. Also, as a warning, I'm going to change the title of this shindig to _"the Dead and Dying"_. Funky capitalization and all. 'Cause _"We All Scream for Ice Cream_"? Really?**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

It was hot. Unpleasantly so.

The air was smothering it was so muggy and thick. The populace felt like it was trapped-suffocating slowly. Even the sky was hazy, and with the skyscrapers blocking out the horizon, looming like disapproving prison guards, the city had become a jail. Its inhabitants were dead-eyed, their gazes blank like some stupid fish. They fanned at themselves, or splashed in crowded pools full of tepid water, but actually pretending to be alive was too draining in the stifling heat. Instead, they sighed and waited for life to continue.

Sitting in a room lit only by the pale light of a flickering computer screen, Erin Harker was one such person, though she honestly could have cared less if life started up again. With an already melting Popsicle coating her fingers with sticky sugar, the young woman slouched in a pool of her own stench, gazing mindlessly at the monitor. Her eyes were bloodshot, and highlighted by dark purple bags that indicated she had been there for quite a while. Of course it was fairly impossible to even see her eyes under the rat's nest of lank, greasy hair that fell across her face. Indeed, if it were not for the occasional twitch of a hand as the Popsicle dripped all over the place, it would be hard to even tell if the female was still alive or not.

Even when the episode she was currently watching flicked off, Erin remained still.

She was in a state near comatose, which was a fairly common occurrence in her life. She had grown into the habit of completely 'zoning out', so that ignoring the world around her became close to instinctual, rather than a conscious effort. At first it had merely been a rebellious stage, but eventually Erin had realized that it proved to be very relaxing. Involving herself with her surroundings led to a great deal of troublesome problems and unwanted stress. As a result she shut down and left all the irritating complexities of life, and society to more ambitious people .

More _foolhardy_ people.

She considered this being practical, a state a self-preservation so to speak. Truthfully, and it was a truth she was completely aware of, the young woman was really just being lazy. Even when she did actually put her mind to use, it did not last long, after which she went back to her apathetic state with a great deal more enthusiasm than she had put into anything else, with the exception of sleep.

Sleep. It was something that had recently became a priority in her life. Not so much because it was something she did a lot of, but because it had become so _difficult_. In fact, if she thought really hard, she figured it had been at least thirty two hours since she had actually been asleep last. The thought was exhausting in and of itself. It was even more exhausting when the sleep-deprived girl realized she had run out of her prescription of sleeping pills. If she was lucky she might be able to get forty minutes of broken sleep and crazy dreams without her medication. However, going to pick up a refill meant walking three blocks to the drugstore in 100 degree weather.

Chances were, the female would melt before she made it that far.

Erin heaved a heavy sigh, the largest sign of life she had shown in hours, before promptly reverting back into her semi-coma.

That was the way she stayed as the clock ticked passed dinner, and then on into the night. At some point the girl tossed out the gooey mess that remained in her hand and on the edge of her seat. She even went back to watching her show. However, for all that, her mind remained slightly focused on the problem at hand. It persisted well into dawn, and eventually the sun rose again, bringing with it more sweltering temperatures.

A shard of sunlight slipped into the room, creeping warily passed the edge of the curtains, before stopping on Erin's pale, strained face. It stayed there, as if daring her to life.

The girl blinked, once, twice, and at last yawned stiffly, as if her face was no longer used to any expression, but the complete deadpan she had worn for the last two days. As she stretched, her joints popped and cracked hideously, making the young woman wince. Ungracefully, she toppled out of her chair, swaying on her feet as she waited for the blood to stop rushing from her head, and her vision to clear.

Scratching her stomach, Erin stumbled across her room. The piles of laundry nearly swallowed her up, such that it was practically a miracle when she burst out into the brightly lit landing past her door. Then, a creature nervously exploring its new, unfamiliar surroundings, The young woman headed towards the washroom. She had realized just how much she stank, and decided she needed to shower once in a blue moon if she didn't want to get labelled as toxic waste.

The water got left on cold, of course. Despite it being early in the morning, it was already too warm for a hot shower. No matter how badly she needed to be disinfected, she would not put herself through that kind of punishment. By the time she got out, her skin was completely numb. All the same, she felt _alive_. Her eyes may have weighed ten pounds each, and her stomach may have shrivelled into a raisin, but Erin actually felt like a living member of humanity.

That was, until she looked in the mirror and found out that she actually looked like a wraith. In fact, she rationalized that if she was ever going to cosplay as L, or Ryuzaki, whichever, now was the time. If she slouched a little, chopped off her hair, and dyed it black she could probably pass. Except for being female. Besides that, she had the same bony, pale appearance, and the heavy bags under her eyes gave her the matching panda affect.

Scowling, she straightened, and forced a smile onto her face. It looked more like a grimace, but at least now she didn't look like one of the most morbid fictional characters to ever exist. Once she'd combed out her hair, added some make-up (a good amount was needed to hide her sleeplessness) she kind of seemed like her old self.

That was even more morbid.

x.X.x

The sidewalks were mostly abandoned. Most people, most sane people opted for cars with air conditioner instead. Erin was envious. Plodding along the sidewalk, feeling like a turtle, or even a sloth, she thought she was probably going to pass out, and her face was bound to implant on the unforgiving cement. No one would even do anything about it. It was too hot. She felt like she would combust just thinking about someone coming within two feet of her to see if she was alright.

Then again, the ambulance or the hospital were bound to have air conditioner. They may also have sleeping medication. She could play half-dead, and at the same time take advantage of cool air and drugged slumber. On the downside that would mean confronting, and _communicating_ with people. Doctors and nurses picking and prodding about identity, and symptoms, and anything that had happened in her life ever.

Erin was not particularly gone on talking about herself. Actually, recently she had found she was not very gone on speaking at all. As with thinking, it required to much energy. With so many things to consider, and social pitfalls hiding just around the corner it was a great deal easier to keep her trap shut, and let people assume that she had nothing of value to input.

If she thought about it, (it was dreadfully exhausting though) Erin realized that that was how she had been making most of her choices lately. _Was it easy?_ It seemed as though the young woman had digressed into rather pathetic behaviour. Perhaps was a result of her chronic insomnia, or even the medication that left her drowsy, and dull witted. For whatever reason, Erin lacked any motivation for even the most simple of things. Thinking? Talking? Bathing regularly? They had all been shoved aside, and labelled as unnecessary. Surely that was not healthy.

Erin could not help but wonder if maybe she should see a shrink.

But that would only result in more tiresome questions, and eventually more medications. No doubt those medications would also have side-affects that would screw up her personality. No. It seemed like too much work, with very little gain. The weary female came to the conclusion that she would be better off as is. Truth to be told, the mindless, almost barbaric lifestyle that consisted of eating, sleeping (or trying to), and otherwise lazing about was satisfactory enough for her. She liked the way days blurred together and nothing seemed capable of touching her.

With a sigh, Erin muttered something unintelligible to confirm that she still knew basic English, and continued on her way. Or would have, had she not bumped into someone. She wanted to hiss like a feral cat, shove the person away, but when she looked to see the perpetrator, she found that it was a small boy. With the expression of a person who had just found out their pet goldfish had died, the child was staring at the smear of goop which had miraculously appeared all over the bottom of her shirt.

"Oh for the love of-" Erin's speaking capabilities made an abrupt reappearance as she realized that she now had some kid's ice-cream decorating her last somewhat clean outfit. Worse still, the kid looked like he was about to throw a major tantrum. "A-ah! Would you look at this," she groaned, awkwardly patting the boy on the shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to comfort him.

"My ice cream," was his only response. His voice was weak, wobbly. "My..my..."

Erin abruptly felt something sink inside her, a heavy stone tugging down in the pit of her stomach, and glanced about for his mother, but when she found no one she heaved a signature sigh. "Look, I'll give you the money for a new one alright? Just don't start crying!" She pulled out her purse, and rooted around for some change, wondering how much an ice-cream cost anyway.

"Will you get it for me?" The kid asked, sounding unnecessarily hopeful.

"Eh? But I..." The uncomfortable female stared down at the boy, who was gazing up at her hopefully. He was just some tiny little innocent shrimp. It was almost sort of endearing, the way he stared up at her with big sparkly eyes like she was about to become his best friend in the whole wide world. If Erin were anyone else she probably would have found it cute, or touching.

"Girl?" Talk about a rude kid.

Erin huffed, and let herself take a step back, physically trying to distance herself from anything remotely related to the idea of responsibility, handing him a five as she did. "No," she answered decisively. The kid was ridiculously ignorant, even for someone who looked to be in second grade. Plus, it would take way too much energy to babysit the little guy. She just knew if she agreed to one thing, then he would be asking her to do something else, like find his parents. Then she would be obligated to talk to them, and that seemed even more taxing.

"Why? Please?" The childlike voice took on a whiny, petulant quality, so much so that it grated on the young female's nerves, and made the hair on her neck stand on end.

"No. It's a man eat man world out there. You gotta start taking care of yourself eventually." When in doubt, spout off some adult garbage about growing up, and children were bound to hop to it, right? It was an unspoken rule that adults pretended to know everything, and youngsters were too dumb to believe otherwise.

For second the small, strange boy looked like he had been smacked in the face. Indeed, Erin could almost think that he had aged several years on the spot. "Why not? You're just a big meanie, you dumb old lady!"

Frankly the kid was starting to sound like any other spoiled brat, and she could feel herself growing more and more detached from the whole situation. "Get over it," was the apathetic reply. "I'm not going to go out of my way for... Look. I gave you the money. Go find your parents and tell them a mean lady harassed you, or something."

The boy stared at her, tiny face all pinched. He looked for all the world as though he had been completely wronged. Maybe he had, maybe Erin was being immoral. Back in school the teachers always made a point of how older kids were supposed to be role models, and she could hardly say she was living up to the standard.

Erin groaned, feeling unreasonably pressured, and entirely done with the bizarre scenario. She yawned to emphasize her complete disinterest, and walked away. There was a tiny niggling feeling telling her to go back and be sensible, but she buried it under a pile of non-thinking. She was good at not thinking, so she did not think about the fact that the boy was probably crying, or the unpleasant feeling that someone was watching her, or the fact that she had just digressed into a whole new level of _completely_ _thoughtless_. For the rest of the walk to the drug store, she did not think about anything but how hot it was, and how tired she was.

So focused on ignoring everything, Erin went completely unaware of the coal coloured gaze that was searing into her back, observing from afar.

It had taken her longer than she thought it would to get her medication. The pharmacist had needed her to fill out some forms, because there was some deity of paperwork that cursed the world, before the girl could get her prescription refilled. She also needed the note from the psychiatrist she had seen months ago, which meant a lot of thinking, as well as an extended search through Erin's unbelievably hideous purse. This had ended up in a lot of scattered clutter all the way from standard pens, to an irritating keychain that started bleeping out a mechanical tune the instant it had hit the desk. Unfortunately, it had been broken, and would not turn off until at last Erin had smashed it with a weirdly coloured rock.

By the time the young, stressed out woman was finished, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep. By sleep, she really meant hibernate for a century. Instead, she had convinced herself that she really needed some chocolate for comfort. Except that the line up to the check out was gigantic because the other cashier was on break, and the only other one was being manned by an idiot.

Truthfully, Erin would have left, except she got cornered by some old, chatty salesperson who had noticed the ice cream stain on her shirt, and taken it upon herself to deliver a very long winded speech about the latest stain remover.

As a result, Erin Harker was one hundred percent done with life. She had developed a strong loathing for chewing gum, especially the air-headed teenagers who took it upon themselves to snap loud, slobbery bubbles every three seconds. She was pretty sure she was now allergic to laundry detergent, and she had a migraine that made the continental drift seem like a-

And then she slammed her fingers in the shop door.

The female could not help but wonder if it was all karma for a certain event that _she was not thinking about_. At this point, she was willing to buy the kid fifty ice cream cones if it meant the cosmic forces would give her a break. Hell, she was pretty sure that if she saw him on her way home, she would really do it. Nothing was worth the kind of bad luck she had received in the past forty five minutes.

Then her misfortune reached an all new high in the form of something that was definitely not a human being. He-it? Whatever it was, balanced on a telephone wire, with a huge, devilish grin on its face. If Erin had believed in that sort of thing, she almost would have thought that it was some sort of demonic creature, or imp, or something, that was there to literally send her fate onto the path of misery. It certainly looked the part with grey leather skin, creepy, bulging black eyes, and freaky clawed hands that had to be the same size of an alligator's...but that was stupid. Impossible. She was hallucinating from a lack of sleep.

It was definitely a ridiculous notion. No way was there some monster right out of a bad horror flick watching her. She nodded resolutely, having successfully convinced herself the the strange thing was not out for her blood, and the fact that she was seeing imaginary beasts hopping around like deranged trapeze artists, smiling straight at her, was perfectly normal. Very obviously choosing not to look in its direction, Erin strode across the street.

And that was how she died.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: White**

Shuichi Aizawa stepped into the hospital feeling relatively frazzled and out of breath. He was desperately clinging onto his tie and the handful of papers he had been handed by Chief Yagami earlier that morning in an effort to keep them from being snatched away by the frigid gusts that insisted on adding to the chaos in his life. The brisk wind that eagerly gusted in through the doors after him caused the nurses gathered around the the front desk to shoot him mildly irritated glances, prompting a round of apologetic smiles and polite comments on the chilly December weather they'd been having.

Having a wife that had given birth to both of his children in this very hospital had taught him to show as much respect to the nurses as possible. Working with the police, a profession that often ended up crossing paths with the medical field, had only served to cement the principal.

"How's the missus?" One the of the nurses asked, a young chap who had been unfortunate enough to have his first day in the maternity ward the same day Shuichi Aizawa's wife had given birth to her second child. Not that she was anything but lovely, but she was also a mother with a propensity for being as frightening as a dragon. It had served the new nurse well though, and given him a steady hand and clear mind in tense situations equal to any of the more experienced nurses with decades handling screeching women in labour.

"Fine, fine," Aizawa answered, straightening out his heavy wither coat. "She's been on a baking kick for the past two weeks though. I'm afraid to see what my results on the next fitness inspection will be like."

One of the old maids settled behind the desk laughed. "You better eat it all up! Nothing's more healthy than the food baked by a woman you love!"

"And nothing's more unhealthy than if you don't," the younger male nurse muttered. This was met by a chorus of laughter.

"Looks like the lad's got himself a girlfriend," the elderly nurse informed, winking at Aizawa in an over exaggerated fashion. "She has him wrapped around her finger. Little bit like you, actually."

Aizawa had no real response to that, and managed a sheepish smile, covertly catching the eye of the young man who seemed to be the butt of many jokes. In a way he seemed a little like the youngster Chief Yagami had taken under his wing, Matsuda. "Well, as much as I would love to stay and chat, I am here on official business. Chief Yagami wants me to speak with the doctor of the victim from the automobile accident yesterday."

At this the nurses fell silent, their eyes flitting back and forth with concern.

"Then the Chief got my call, did he?" The new voice spoke from behind Aizawa, who turned to the professional woman, no longer paying attention to the nurses that were so obviously listening in.

"Doctor. Yes, we got your call. The Chief asked me to investigate. He would have been here himself, but as you can imagine it's been pretty busy at headquarters." It went without saying that the police had been up to their necks given the mysterious case of criminal deaths. Although they had made no public statements yet, the case was hardly a secret one. The civilians had easily taken notice of their supposed 'avenger', and had dubbed him 'Kira'. Now it was not uncommon to hear talk of the murderer posing as a hand of justice.

"I see." The doctor responded knowingly. She glanced over his shoulder at the silent nurses' station, and began to lead Aizawa away. "Well, let's go speak in my office. The patient is a bit of puzzle really. I knew the police would want to take her statement regarding the accident when she woke up, but considering how things have turned out, I thought you might like an update."

Aizawa stepped into a elevator, careful not reveal anything. "I see. Has she not woken up then? I suppose that's understandable. She was involved in a pretty bad collision after all."

The doctor nodded, passively agreeing to his general statement as they waited for the doors to close. When the did, she spoke. "Certainly. However, we have examined her thoroughly, and to be honest I just don't understand. That girl should be dead. There is very little likelihood that anyone could have survived what she did, and yet..." The doctor sighed, a hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose in a way that revealed just how tired she was. "...And yet the patient seems to have suffered no real damage. Other than a few cracked ribs, medically...she's perfectly fine. We gave her a CAT Scan to be sure there was no bleeding or swelling in the brain, but it showed no anomalies."

The elevator slowed to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal another sterile hallway, where only a few nurses puttered about quietly. Aizawa followed the female doctor as she navigated the brightly lit corridor, pondering the information he had received. As a member of the task force, he had been required to take First Aide, but that did not mean he had any in depth knowledge on the subject matter. He had to take the doctor's word for it when she said this condition was unheard of.

"Well, that's not why I called Chief Yagami," the doctor admitted, as she lead Aizawa into her office, and gestured for him to take a seat. "It's up to us to figure out stuff like that. No, the reason I called was the matter of her ID."

"From what I hear, it would be more appropriate to refer to it as a lack there-of."

The doctor frowned as they both settled into the seats on either side of her desk. "Yes, I suppose it would be. You already know she had no passport from the initial attempt at discovering her identity. Since we thought it was a critical situation we asked that the police wait to investigate anymore."

That had been the day before, immediately after emergency services had arrived at the scene of the accident. Given that it was imperative the victim receive medical attention, the police had not pushed the issue. They had intended on returning, though the Kira Case had delayed them somewhat. Before they had managed to make a decision in regard to the foreigner, they had received the call from the doctor.

"And? The Chief informed me that you mentioned something about no being able to find her records."

"Yes. We tried to access her medical record to see if she had any ailments of other health issues, as is custom. We also wanted to contact her next of kin. The thing is...we could not find anything. She had her purse on her, and we took the liberty to search it. There was the standard articles. She had a birth certificate, photo ID, and a bank card. None of these turned up anything. I have no idea if they are forgeries, or what. If they are, then someone put a great deal of effort into making them seem like the genuine thing. I don't know what to think. Either way, we also found a bottle of prescription pills. Standard insomnia medication. The residing physician was a doctor by the name of Nathan Takamura. When we got in contact with him early this morning, we were told that he apparently has never even heard of the girl."

Aizawa frowned. There were a lot of missing pieces in the girl's life, and whatever the reason was, things were not looking good. This was the kind of thing handled by foreign affairs, for god's sake, not one lone investigator. "So? What's the victim's name?"

"Hm? Oh. Erin Harker."

Erin Harker. Supposedly. There was a high chance that all the information they had found her was completely false, although he could not imagine why anyone would go through so much trouble to obscure themselves, and have absolutely nothing to back it up. Even the doctor, who Aizawa inferred was meant to be some sort of alibi turned out to unreliable. All of that was based on conjecture though; Aizawa was operating under the assumption that this Erin Harker was trying, what, some sort of infiltration? If anything it was more likely she was some innocent kid that had gotten kidnapped. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Though that hardly explained why it seemed like she did not exist.

In an age of advancing technology, it was impossible to remain completely anonymous, particularly for a normal civilian anyway. Furthermore, the fact that there were traces of a past, a life, that appeared completely false... It was like a sick joke right out of a book, as if she were some sort if international spy, or escaped from a secret government facility. However, every time

the investigator brushed against such ideas, he dismissed them as ridiculous. That sort of thinking was largely implausible.

No, for now, Shuichi Aizawa pushed any ludicrous guesses to the back of his mind. He would not make any more conclusions until he had more concrete evidence. "I think I'll be needing whatever evidence you have, her ID, and the contact information for that American doctor. We will update you as her over-seeing physician if we turn up anything relevant."

"Thank you." The professional woman stood to her feet. She turned to the filing cabinet by her desk, and began to search for the files on her peculiar patient. "We will call when she wakes up, or if anything else notable happens."

"I don't suppose we have any idea why she has not woken up yet?"

"While there is no physical reason, it's not altogether surprising. It could've a result of shock, or trauma. I'm sure that when her body feels stable she will rejoin us in the land of the waking."

Aizawa sighed. "Hopefully she will do so soon so that we can get this sorted out quickly. There aren't many officers free to deal another international investigation."

X.x.X

_Smears of grey surrounded her, vague and shifting. The shades ran, blending together like watery paints spreading across a canvas, little capillaries of dark and light leaking into an unfathomable distance. When Erin tried to focus, things only blurred further, as if she were turning the dial on a microscope the wrong way. It was disorientating, so much so that it actually made her nauseous. _

_She swayed unsteadily on her feet, knees like jelly as her eyes tried to make sense of her situation. Unfortunately the ground was a hungry glutton, and the moment her weight became unbalanced she began to sink, the mucky sand sucking and slurping against her legs and feet. Like quicksand, the more she struggled the more she found herself sinking, sinking, sinking, getting swallowed up by the very earth it's self. _

_She opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound slipped passed her lips, only furthering her panic because why couldn't she speak? In fact, she realized that she could not hear anything either not the whisper of a breeze, the trickle of dirt as it dipped to encompass her, nor the sounds of her own breathing. _

_Was this what it was like to drown? To be consumed by a senseless void?_

X.x.X

She woke up screaming. Well, perhaps it would have been a scream, but mostly it was a silent howl, a rasping strain against her throat, as if her own mind had tricked her body into thinking she was suffocating. The minute she was aware of herself enough to realize that she was, in fact, not dying, Erin snapped her jaw shut with a click.

She blinked, and cast her eyes about, confused by the bright afternoon light that shone through the window. The clean, relatively spacious room she was in was unfamiliar in it's monochrome design scheme and its orderly appearance. The number of clinical looking machines, however, were unfortunately easy to recognize in and of the fact that they were a relatively universal sight.

Erin Harker was in a hospital, and she was not impressed.

This did leave the question of how exactly she came to be in the hospital. Briefly she wondered if she really had suffered some sort of heatstroke, or had perhaps passed out from a lack of sleep. Maybe it was some kind of withdrawal symptom? But no, that would have been ridiculous. It wasn't like she was addicted to her prescription. Still, something must have happened for her to end in a building with such a nicely controlled temperature.

If she cast her mind back she could remember...

Eyes. Watching. Yellow, hedonistic, monstrous eyes, staring, following prying into her.

Suddenly it all came flooding back to her, chasing away any ridiculous notions about passing out on the sidewalk. The monster, the crash, and the pain. It had been a pain greater than anything she had ever felt before, the simultaneous feeling of having her soul shredded, and the feeling that she was being bludgeoned, beaten, burnt, sliced up all at once. It lingered in the back of her mind, a mind rending sear, a throbbing ache that made her curl into a fetal position, paying no mind to the tubes and needles leashing her. It was impossible to even think about as it filled her mind with a primal terror, and rather than wondering how she was in a hospital, Erin began to wonder how she was not dead, or at the very least dying.

Something was very wrong. Erin could feel it in her soul, so to speak. Her skin was itchy, and raw. The stiff blanket pulled over her chafed, the lights pierced her eyes, and with each gasping breath nausea seemed to surge up inside her. There was a cloying sweet smell that reminded her of dying flowers, and old people. It clung to everything, making her stomach lurch. Even the air in her mouth, the blood in her veins was just so off; it seemed so foul, like poison.

Then the nurses appeared in a flurry of white, summoned by the mad beeping of the monitors. they spoke to her, but she did not know what they were saying. She was scared that her brain had somehow gotten fried in the accident and now she was incapable of normal conversation. The nurses tried to get her to lay still, but when they touched her, her skin screamed and she only ended up thrashing about more.

She wanted to ask, demand what was going on, but they were all so loud, talking and jabbering away like flock of vultures, and her ears were ringing, and her heart was pounding, and she could breathe. It was all so insane and wrong, wrong, wrong, and she did not know what to do, btu she just wanted some relief from the pain, and the the madness, the wrongness that she could not escape.

When eventually one of the nurses had the brilliant idea of giving her sedative, she welcomed the tide of drowsiness that washed over her with open arms.

* * *

**_A/N: Oh My God. Writing this chapter was freaking impossible. I had it half written out, decided I didn't like, deleted it, and then wrote the Aizawa stuff. The dream bit I have had planned since the very start of this story, but the rest of it? With Erin waking up? I had no idea how to do what I wanted to do. Mostly I was just trying to drag out the chapter with out making it too choppy. Oh well, I finally got what I wanted done, and it might seem like a bit of a filler, but from here my path should open up a little. There's some political, technical stuff, but after that maybe we will get to see some L._**

**_Anyway, I hope you like it. Really. You have no idea the blood I shed for this chapter. Well, not literally, but you get my point. Sorry if there are many mistakes. I think I should get a beta, but then, maybe I should focus on writing more consistantly first, lol._**


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